


Cooperative, Not Competitive

by Ichirinsa



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Body Sharing, But sometimes you pine with someone else, Content Warning: Ianthe Tridentarius, F/F, Harrow the Ninth Spoilers (Locked Tomb Trilogy), Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:02:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29524743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ichirinsa/pseuds/Ichirinsa
Summary: Harrow has two hands. Ianthe has two-ish. Gideon’s hands happen to be Harrow’s. The math checks out, probably.Gideon and Ianthe have a serious conversation about the past, but find the pleasantries unnecessary.
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Ianthe Tridentarius
Comments: 1
Kudos: 23





	Cooperative, Not Competitive

It wasn’t the eyes that freaked Ianthe out, no. She’d become well acquainted with her own weirdass eyes from self-examinations in the mirror -- Harrow having one gold eye and one eye in that dark, dark grey of hers was no concern. Nor was it the way Harrow spoke to herself aloud now, strange as it was and will always be to hear Gideon’s lilt and mannerisms occasionally suffusing Harrow’s carefully-curated mien. Ianthe had been well and fully hazed to the peculiarities of Lyctorhood even in that odd mishmash of extenuating circumstances. Even with the amalgam that was now the Reverend Daughter Harrowhark Nonagesimus and her Cavalier, Gideon Nav. No, none of that made Ianthe even so much as bat an eye.

What really got Ianthe was being stuck here in a tiny vessel, recalling with intimate detail her conversation with Gideon amidst the slaughter of Heralds, and having little choice but to admit that Nav had been right that day. Somewhat. Ianthe had Nonagesimitis. She had cried alone at that revelation night after night for what felt like years, at the knowledge that her undying heart had chosen, unbidden, with _no_ input from her brain and unfettered by any simulacrum of common sense, to develop feelings for her little Harry.

Worse still were the facets where Gideon had been completely off-mark. Observing Harrow’s interactions with her own body was evidence enough for the facts Ianthe _knew_ that Nav must also know: Nav only recognized back then that Ianthe wanted Harrow, because Gideon herself wanted Harrow. Precious, stupid Gideon couldn’t admit to that one. It was pathetic remembering Gideon’s emotions in Harrow’s face that night. “Oh boo hoo, Ianthe, you whore. Harrow could never love me even if I wanted her to, which I definitely don’t want her to because I’m the biggest, worst thing to ever happen to her.” Bullshit, Nav. Bullshit. Harrow had never been so gentle with her own body. If she thought Gideon was the worst thing to ever happen to her, she had a funny way of showing it.

Naturally, only the two most bullheaded individuals in the entirety of The Prince Undying’s purview would have eyes for the Reverend Daughter. Given the Lyctorhood both of them had now, it’s surprising it took anything less than a myriad for either of them to admit to it. Being present for the betrayal and almost-death of God and the self could do that to a person, immortal or not. 

But the worst of it, by the sacrilegious name of Emperor John Gaius himself, the _worst_ of it: Ianthe knew she’d lose the competition between her and Gideon, if there even was one in the first place. Gideon had the upper hand with Harrow. They’d known each other their entire lives, though most of it was wasted in flirtatious antagonism. When Gideon finally succumbed to the asphyxiating truth of sentimentality, when she finally admitted that she loved Harrow, Ianthe would be as good as gone. She would lose Harrow. And she would lose Gideon, too. She’d be alone again.

In one of her nightly sob sessions, somewhere between the apportioned sections where she cried about all of that and then in pity for herself for feeling that way, a knock reverberated from the autodoor to her misappropriated quarters. Thank God Ianthe had soundproofed the chamber herself or these tears would permanently soil her reputation with all four people on their new, measly vessel.

“What.” Ianthe’s tone betrayed no quiver of emotion.

“It’s me, Tridentarius. Open up.” Harrow’s voice, Gideon’s tone. Great. Three’s company.

With no shortage of reluctance, Ianthe uncurled herself from the poor facsimile of a mattress, then trod to the autodoor and slid it open. The bags under her eyes masked the melancholy puffiness of a good cry. Or a bad cry, as the case may be.

Outside, Harrow kicked her feet at some unseen scrap of metal on the floor. Her hands were in her pockets, and her posture felt much larger than her body. Gideon, then.

“What.” A perfect repetition.

It was only when Harrow turned around that Ianthe understood what the “what” was. Both of Harrow’s eyes were golden again. It was entirely Gideon this time.

“Sensitive conversation. Can we…?” In lieu of finishing the sentence, Gideon pointed her chin into the chambers.

Ianthe sidestepped wordlessly to allow entrance. No reason to offer undue hostility. Even if Ianthe could make up a reason, as she often had, she didn’t have the energy for it.

She hid her worry poorly behind each word. “Your eyes. Does this mean that Harry-”

“Relax, she’s just sleeping,” Gideon interrupted. Before Ianthe could begin again: “She found a, quote, unquote ‘foolproof’ method to temporarily flip off her consciousness in this body. I’ve got the reins for now.”

Ianthe’s face twisted to nonplussed more with each word. “Leave it to Nonagesimus to stick me with you again.”

“Hey, don’t look so disappointed to see me, Ianthe.” She spread her arms to boast her larger-than-life attitude.

‘Showing off’ had always been one of Ianthe’s least favorite postures. “Because things went amicably last time, right? It was difficult enough to get her back into that body with you, Nav. If you evict her again, so help me God.”

“Was the word ‘foolproof’ not in a Harrow-ish enough tone? I’ve been practicing being her, but I guess I’m not there yet.”

Ianth surrendered and dropped to the bed. “Why are you here, Nav.” The words left not as a question, not in the slightest. A statement, through and through, as if the answer were obvious. Which, of course, could not be farther from the truth.

The words brought Gideon down from whatever satirical diatribe she’d planned on. “I… listen, I feel like we need to talk. I wanted it to just be us, but now that’s a bit difficult. Privacy and all.” She joined Ianthe on the far end of the bed. The less risk of an accidental brush of contact, the better.

Ianthe followed thus far. “What is there for us to talk about?”

“On the Mithraeum, everything I said to you.” Gideon shuddered with the tightening of Ianthe’s golden phalanges, metacarpals. Crown Princess of Ida as she may have once been, this amount of nude emotion was new from anyone, let alone Gideon. “I’m sorry.”

“No you aren’t,” she blurted.

“But-”

“You’re getting your revenge, aren’t you?” But she kept herself from saying the difficult part out loud: _You have Harry all to yourself, you can rub that in my face, you can tell me I’m a fool for falling in love and then denying it to both you and myself. You_ win _, Gideon Nav._

And with far more tenderness than either of them deserved, Gideon said over her shoulder, “You love her, too.”

Too. Gideon said _too_. “What of it? What difference does it make?” The tears returned before she could notice them or stop them or care enough to do either.

A mirthless gust of air escaped Harrow’s nose. “Wish I knew.” Gideon inched closer, not lifting from the bed. “I don’t want you to be alone, Tridentarius. Trust me, I know more than anyone right now that solitude is a luxury, but-” 

“You’re supposed to hate me, Nav. What happened to that?”

“I saw you made a shit decision that I knew you’d regret, and when it almost got you killed I felt sad instead of thinking you deserved it.”

“High praise from you.” One step away from regaining composure, Ianthe pressed. “Why, don’t tell me that you’re falling for me, too?”

“Shut your damn mouth,” she deflected. “I’m only saying that what I said to you then wasn’t cool. You obviously do care about Harrow. You know what I know about her, and somehow you still care. That’s… that takes a lot, Tridentarius. I’d know.”

“Yes, but you’re saying it in a manner that positively reeks of withheld sentimentality.” She scooted closer to Gideon, closing the distance, shoulder to shoulder. Then, after a sigh, she responded properly. “I may have made… undue character judgments of you as well. You’re loyal, if stupidly so. Harrow is lucky to have someone like you.”

“I mean, I still think you’re a conniving bitch.”

“An accurate assessment.”

“I see why Harrow tolerated you, though. You’re starting to grow on me.”

“Likewise, Gideon.” And against her better judgment, her head leaned onto Harrow’s -- Gideon’s -- shoulder. And, in her head: _Don’t make me fall for two women I can’t have, Gideon Nav._

In spite of any better judgment, Ianthe reached her flesh and blood hand across Harrow’s torso, up her shoulder, the clavicle, and then the jaw. She rubbed her thumb over that pointed cheekbone of Harrow’s, fully aware and content that this was Gideon she was truly touching. Despite herself, she smiled. Genuinely.

No words. Perhaps Gideon might’ve hesitated in any other scenario, being in Harrow’s body. But she allowed every motion. She turned to Ianthe, lips parted, and the two silently agreed to kiss.

Any semblance of forbiddance faded swiftly at the motion of Harry’s--no, Gideon’s lips against hers. Just as Ianthe had expected, gentle but with an unyielding undercurrent of passion.

Harrow might be upset later, but for now, Ianthe wanted nothing else.

**Author's Note:**

> I was upset at myself for not finishing any of my writing projects so I wrote this in one afternoon with the intention of it turning into smut but then I got to the end and it was just too sweet for me to make it porn therefore I don't think I've technically succeeded in my goal but hey have it anyway before I think better of it
> 
> I just want Ianthe to get a redemption is that so wrong of me
> 
> edit: okay I changed my mind, I'm writing a porny second chapter and you can't stop me


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